


It's Not What I Didn't Feel It's What I Didn't Show

by sentimental_boy



Series: Eggsy Unwin shorts [4]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy ending and resolved issues, as always, light angst i guess, touch starved reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentimental_boy/pseuds/sentimental_boy
Summary: You and Eggsy have been together for a while and you're always receptive to his touches, but it takes a little work to bring you out of your shell.
Relationships: Gary "Eggsy" Unwin/Reader
Series: Eggsy Unwin shorts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1409980
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	It's Not What I Didn't Feel It's What I Didn't Show

"Hey, love?" Eggsy starts.

You let out a quiet hum from where you're resting your head on his chest.

"Why don't you ever touch me?"

"What are you talking about? I'm touching you right now." You run your hand along his chest.

"In all the time we been together, you've never initiated contact. You always seem receptive to it but sometimes it seems like you're being... I don't know, clinical."

"Oh."

He watches you, waiting for you to respond to him but what was a curious question on his end, has you stressing out. He can see that much; knew it would happen. It's why it took so long for him to start this conversation even though he's been wondering about it for a while now. He takes your hand and turns to face you. "Hey, it's fine. I was curious, is all. I didn't know if there was a reason or if you even knew you were— or weren't doing it."

"There's a reason I joined Kingsman. It wasn't to be part of something bigger than myself, or for a sense of pride. I wasn't grandfathered in. I did it because I could. There are a lot of people who couldn't give up the possibility of love and a family in the future. For me it was easy. Or, I thought it would be. When they told me that an agent couldn't have a significant other, I was relieved. I had something to dedicate myself to where I never had to think about why I was still single. I'd never have to feel bad about it again because now I had a reason beyond _I'm not cut out to live my life with someone else_."

"Shit. _Love_ , that ain't what I'm sayin' at all. I—"

"Of course not. I've had a few— well, I wouldn't call them _relationships_. There have been a few people who I pictured a relationship with. But we never made it past the second or third date because I wouldn't let it develop past that. One time, I was lying next to a guy after we did it and unprompted, he goes: This is called human contact. I laughed it off and we moved on. I spent so much of my young life buying into the idea of romance but when it was happening to me, I didn't know what to do with it. A large part of me wanted to reject it because romance is for girls— don't worry, I've addressed the internal misogyny there— and I wanted to be better than that even though deep down, I was _lonely_. I have a hard time shutting my brain off and enjoying the closeness."

Eggsy frowns, noticing that your last sentence wasn't in past tense. Hearing all this, he almost forgot the actual conversation he started. "Still? With me?"

"If I'm being honest, yeah. I love it when you hold me, I do. But there's a bigger part of me that's so ingrained that tells me I need to push away, that I'm not allowed to have this. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to roll over and be as alone as I can be when I'm sharing a bed."

"Well, we 'ave a sofa if you gotta be alone so bad."

"No— Eggsy, that's not what I meant." You let out a frustrated breath. "Ugh, I don't know how to talk about this."

"Hey, it's okay. Sorry, that was a bad joke. I want to understand this. So, what I have so far, is that you'd like ta be more receptive ta romance and contact but every instinct you 'ave is screamin' against it the whole time."

You let out a breath of relief. "Yes. That's exactly it. But there's more too. I'm always worried that if I initiate contact with someone that they're going to have an adverse reaction to it. Or that I'll be going to them when they need alone time but they don't want to hurt my feelings so they put up with it."

"Do you think somethin' 'appened in your past, growing up with your parents, or a close friend, or someone you were attracted to that made you think that?"

"That's the thing. My family wasn't over-affectionate but it wasn't _bad_. They were super religious, to the point where I wasn't allowed to date until I'd moved out. Any contact with the opposite sex was suspect at best. But I can't remember anything that could've _traumatized_ me. I've over thought it into a real issue now. An issue I _thought_ I'd never have to deal with, so thanks for sweeping me off my feet."

"You're welcome." he winks before he lays back down on his back. "Now, I can't 'elp but notice that none'a this self-consciousness carries over when we 'ave sex."

"Sex is more cut and dry to me. Besides, that was definitely forbidden before marriage and I knew I didn't agree with that. Sex was liberating. It was solid proof I was in control of myself and my life when I moved out. Anyway, sex is all about letting go of your self-consciousness. It's pretty obvious what has to happen if that's something you want. It is what it is."

"I get what you're sayin', but when ya find someone ya love— or could grow ta love, your whole relationship should be about lettin' go of self-consciousness. It should be about bein' comfortable ta be yourself and knowin' the other person loves ya for it."

"You're right."

He sighs. "Right, but it don't 'elp."

You shrug. "It's a lovely thought. It's what I've always wanted out of a relationship. Someone to be comfortable with. You know, even if this conversation hasn't made it seem like it, you're the closest I've ever come to that. I always knew it would take work on my end so I've thrown away every other relationship before I actually had to work on myself. I won't do that with you."

Eggsy beams at that. "I'm happy ta hear it. I understand if you need to sort this out yourself, and I don't know if it'll help, hearin' it, but I'm promisin' you right now that I'll tell ya if I ever need space. And when you decide ta touch me, I'll never freak out on ya. If I want to be left alone for some reason, I'll let you know. But it'll be nice ta know you like me enough to come to me; not just enough to put up with it when I go to you."

Your knee jerk response is to get defensive. ' _It'll be nice to know that you_ like _him enough to go to him?'_ He should know that your feelings for him at this point are stronger than _like_. You care deeply about the man next to you otherwise you wouldn't still be here. And you deserve more credit than ' _you_ put up with it _when I seek you out_.' You're receptive, relaxed. That's more than you've been with others. Then you realize: how is he supposed to know that? You've never told him any of that and to someone as open and loud as him, your more subtle ways of showing you care about him might go unnoticed. Or at least he might not realize the full gravity of them. "Come on Eggsy, you already know that I more than _tolerate_ you."

"Yeah. But it'll be nice when you can show me."

You know he's not trying to be hurtful. This is an important, healthy discussion and you're happy he's being honest with you. It doesn't change the fact that his last statement made you feel awful. "Ladies and gentlemen, she can kick your ass, she can disassemble a bomb, but she can't _show_ her soft, loving boyfriend, that she feels the same." You sigh.

"Hey, I'm not tryin' ta make you feel like shite." He reads your mind. Or perhaps your face. Or your tone. Turns out: you're not subtle in this.

"I know."

"I wanted to talk about it. That's what you do in a relationship, right? You talk things over. I don't expect you to read my mind. I'm tellin' you what I need. Now that we've discussed it, I understand that it's not that easy for you. Now I don't 'ave to wonder what's going on, yeah?" He searches your face, waiting for you to look at him. When you don't, he takes your chin in his hand. It has the desired effect. He slides his hand to rest on your neck as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

You're reminded that he's still the one initiating contact. How exhausting it must be to always be the one seeking, coaxing. Before you can look away from that earnest gaze, he continues.

"I'm not expectin' things to change overnight. Everthin' you told me makes sense. This conversation was as much for you as it was for me. Like I said: now I understand why you 'ave a 'ard time. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured into anythin'. Just— I 'ope this talk will 'elp you feel more comfortable. It's already helpin' me."

"Yeah, I'm glad we had this talk. I've thought about it a lot but I always thought it was going to be something I kept internalized and would have to deal with on my own. It's my problem, after all."

"Not on my watch." He pauses. "And it goes both ways. If it's _ever_ too much, you know you can tell me, right?"

You nod. "Yeah. It's good to hear anyway, though." You let out a breath. "I wish this wasn't so hard for me. _Fuck_ , why can't I be normal?"

"Normal? Come on, if anythin' _I'm_ the abnormal one. 'ave you ever met a Kingsman who wasn't emotionally constipated?"

"Yeah, _you_."

"Alright, other than me. Like, that's part of the mission statement. _I, your name here, hereby pledge to never show another emotion in the presence of another person again lest I be rendered a fool by my colleagues._ At the beginning of this conversation, you told me that's _why_ you joined. It's a whole organization of people like you. Look at all the good they— _you_ 'ave managed to do with it. We're all different. I'm the emotional, soft one they weren't going to let through training. It was a complete fluke I got through at all. You remember that story, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"I can't tell you how many times Galahad has had to take me by the ear mid-mission and tell me to get over it and do my job.

"I was there for it a couple of times. I remember, it happened the first mission we went on together. I studiously ignored it as one who's— how'd you put it? Emotionally constipated?"

"Oh, I'm never going to hear the end of that one, will I?" He laughs.

"We'll see. Anyway, I studiously ignored the outburst and subsequent reprimanding as one who's emotionally constipated would."

He throws his head back and groans. "Alright, alright. Well, I remember thinking: I know she saw what 'appened, am I the only one 'ere with a sense of empathy? Is anyone going to side with me?"

"While I was thinking: Oh great, where'd they dig this guy up? Is he going to be able to get the job done?"

"Right, then you saw me fight and now we're together."

"Do you think that's what happened?" You laugh.

He frowns. "Well, I was making light of it but I don't think it was _that_ funny."

"Aww, babe, you're sexy when you fight, but that's not what drew me to you. I fell in love with you because—" the following thoughts happened in a jumble, in a matter of seconds: _fell in love with. Love. Should you acknowledge that you told him you love him? Do you, or was it a spur of the moment— use of common vernacular when nothing else seemed to fit? No, it wasn't. You said it because it's true._ And that realization came on so fast that you didn't know what to do with it, so you plowed on. "You're so soft and sweet and it shows. It's a breath of fresh air, meeting a guy who isn't afraid of that side of himself, even though I am." There's a moment of silence where you can't read him.

He grins. "Are we skippin' over the fact that you told me you love me?"

You shrug. "Do you want to?"

He lets out a breath as his brows draw together and his eyes dart across your face in disbelief. He doesn't know how it's possible that you don't know how much he cares about you already. Your question was serious. "Oh, love. Course not. I love you too. I figured you already had an idea. I'm sorry if you didn't."

"I did. I guess it's hard for me to believe that this is happening to me."

"Well, it is. You best start believing it, love."

—0—

At first, nothing changes. He starts holding off a bit, not going straight for contact the way he usually does. He wants to give you a chance to think about it, time to initiate the contact yourself. When you still don't touch him, he caves and lets himself be the one to start. You're still receptive, it's clear that you're comfortable, so it doesn't bother him that much. He meant it when he told you that he didn't expect it to happen overnight. It's not shocking that it doesn't.

The first time you come to him, he's making dinner. He heard your key in the door, heard it shut as you dropped your purse to the ground. When you find him, he expects you to fall into a seat at the table, or lean on the counter next to him, where he'd plant a welcome home kiss to your lips or cheek. Instead, he feels your arms wrap around his waist and your chin come to rest on his shoulder.

"Hey." You murmur into his ear, your breath tickling his neck.

"Hey." He grins.

He knows you well enough to know that you're in your head about it, unsure of what to do next. But surprised as he was, it felt— _feels_ so amazing to be wanted. And it means even more knowing that you love him enough to try. He runs his hand over yours where they're clasped over his stomach before he turns around to face you. After all, choosing a more pleasant way to greet him shouldn't mean you miss out on that welcome home kiss.

He leans in, and what was going to be a soft peck turns into more. This small gesture— putting your arms around him— proof of your promise that you'd work on yourself because you don't want to leave him, is making him more emotional than he ought to be. He doesn't want to make a big deal about it, doesn't want to scare you away or worse, make you feel bad that you haven't been doing more of this. So he lets his emotions out through the kiss, where you're less likely to recognize them for what they are.

He still can't stop himself from letting out a breathless "thank you" when you part.

"For what?"

At this point, he supposes, the kiss did its job and put you at ease. "For the warm greeting. I just want you ta know I noticed, and it meant a lot to me."

"It shouldn't have to." You murmur. "We've been together long enough that me having this issue is just weird. You deserve more than I've been giving you."

"Hey, babes, no." He remembers to turn the stove off and move the pan. While it would be a funny story later, the smoke alarm going off right now would be ill-timed. "I don't want you to feel guilty. I worried this would 'appen. Listen, there's nothing _weird_ about you bein' touch starved. I was too, if I'm 'onest." He shrugs. "And it ain't about what I deserve. It's about communication and we 'ad a 'ealthy talk about this before. I chose to be with you. _All_ of you, as you are. If after this, it don't get easier for you to be the first one to give a hug or take a 'and, I'll pick that job right back up. I don't mind. I mean it. But I loved this too."

After that, he kept giving you space to be the one to initiate contact, and this time you took him up on his silent offer. You'll take his hand at the store or run your hand along his back at dinner. You'll give him a peck on the cheek when you pass him in the hall or kiss him on the forehead before you join him on the sofa. Each time he looks at you like you hung the moon. It's kind of amazing. You never thought about the power it would make you feel to have someone look at you _like that_ over a simple, innocent touch. Every time, he's so receptive and you can tell he _loves_ it. You don't think he'd overdo it to make it easier for you, he knows you well enough to know you wouldn't want that. But you suspect his reactions are as much for you as they are genuine.

—0—

Months later, Eggsy's in bed with you, enjoying the feeling of your hand in his hair when he realizes something.

"You know, when we 'ad that talk a couple months ago? You remember it?"

"Of course."

"Afterward, I don't know if you noticed, but I started giving you some space to touch me first. Instead of just goin' for it all the time."

"I did."

"Well, I'm realizing that I 'aven't thought about that for a while. A few weeks, _at least_. More than that, even. I 'aven't thought about any of it. Only 'ow much I love bein' with you."

"That's good." You pause, thinking. "You made it easy for me. Now that you mention it, when it comes down to it, all I think about is: wow, his hair looks so soft; I want his hand in mine; wow, he's so cute, I _have_ to kiss him. At first, it was deliberate and I was in my own head about it, but it hasn't been like that for a while now."

"Good." He has a soft smile resting on his face. "Look at us, resolving things together."

You hum in agreement before you sit up, leaning over him to connect your lips in a kiss.

"God, I love you so much. Come 'ere." He grins as he puts his hands on your hips, bringing you over to sit in his lap.

"Yeah? You have some ideas, Unwin?"

He shrugs and winks in that cocky, flippant way of his. "C'mon and I'll show you."


End file.
